Trouble
by Oph3lia
Summary: Hiro Takachiho was trouble and he knew it. Tadashi and Hiro are heirs to companies that monopolise markets on an international scale, competitive by name, competitive by nature. They've met before, many times, but this evening is just going to bring out a history neither would like to remember and scars that should have just stayed hidden... Non related AU and an aged up Hiro


Hi there! So there are many things I should be getting on with *blatantly ignores exams* but this one-shot ran away from me... This is Hidashi (so please don't read if you're not down with that) and there is some homophobia and racism, only a little, but if that triggers you, please be careful! Flash backs and the occasional thought are in italics.

I hope you enjoy!

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Tadashi hadn't been there more than 20 minutes and he already felt like pulling his hair out.

Surrounding him at all angles were middle aged and well... ancient people all talking politics and 'oh what lovely weather we are having' while narrowing their eyes, with sickly smiles as they tried to drain each other of any resource they could get. It was a tank of sharks, all competing and lashing out at one another when a back was turned. And he hated it. He wanted to tug at his tie, undo a button and shout at the next condescending predator that dared ask him how the family business was going. But he didn't.

Ever the perfect son, Tadashi smiled at leering old ladies, engaged in the brainless chit chat and kept his posture just how his mother had always told him how.

 _"It's all about image, all about attitude, if you want to get far in this game,_ " she would say, _"you have to play the system."_

It was going as well as it could be he supposed. Off in the corner his mother was enchanting that CEO she wanted for the empire - The old lady could be quite seductive when it suited her. Her complexion, it would seem, did not equate to her age. In any case, the evening was going as planned.

Turning his back to Mrs Matsuda, excusing himself from the relatively _mind numbing_ discussion regarding the elections (there was only so much right wing conservatism Tadashi could swallow in one sitting) the young man managed to snag some kind of canapés before his stomach could start to rumble. At least, he supposed, the food was divine.

At that precise moment the door opened and Tadashi's eyes locked with the new comer. Chocolate eyes a light with something mischievous, a slight amusement practically foreign in the stale room. His hair was a mess. Rebellious, it stood up at all angles, as if allergic to combs. Allergic to conformity. His button was popped, collar a state and tie non existent. But Tadashi was, as always, drawn to the cracked lips slowly snaking into a smug and knowing grin.

Hiro Takachiho was trouble and he knew it.

...

 _Tadashi was on the good side of nineteen, one_ _of his first business gatherings under the wing of his father this time. And God was he bored. Escaping another god damn interrogation about his college experience, he breaks free from the epicentre to move to the rooms edges and out of no-man's-land. He makes it to an alcove and leans against the wall, closing his eyes in frustration. If this was how the rest of his life was going to turn out, he wanted no part in it._

 _..._

His pulse races, palms sweat and he quickly turns on the spot. He can escape this time if only he just-

"Ah, Hamada!" Hiro calls to him deliberately loudly and halting his flight to freedom. Tadashi freezes and watching as heads turn towards the boy, cold dread of attention washing over him.

Hiro continues, voice falsely pleasant, "Didn't know you were going to be here, what a... _nice_ surprise"

Tadashi closes his eyes, psyches himself up with a sigh and turns facing the boy with a plastic smile. Of course publicly the pair are thick as thieves. They attend the same school, the same events and even have a (supposedly) friendly rivalry that the media eats up. He vaguely wonders what would happen if they knew the truth.

...

 _Tadashi is startled when a laugh to his left cuts through the air, "Fun evening?" the boy asks with a smirk. Tadashi merely blinks at him a moment, wondering where the hell he'd popped out from to disturb his fresh solitude._

 _Eventually, he snorts in reply, "Fantastic. I've nearly been molested by a few desperate and rich widows all the while being quizzed on my future every next second. What about you?"_

 _The kid, probably about sixteen maybe seventeen, shrugs and says with brown eyes glinting, "I think it's about to get a whole lot more interesting" with a grin that has Tadashi tilting his head bemused, and ignorant to the coming storm._

...

"Takachiho," Tadashi calls with fake cheer, hiding his quivering hands deep in his suits pockets, "I didn't see you come in"

Tadashi watches Hiro's eyes light up again, a single eye brow raised. They've done this dance before, they both know what parts to play. Tadashi stays frozen as Hiro makes his way towards him, hands shoved roughly in pockets and practically swaggering across the room. His fingers twitch. The hair on his neck stands.

...

 _Somehow the boy has led him out the busy hall and up the stairs with silent and fast feet, that leave Tadashi stumbling in his wake. The boy's laughing, practically giggling as he drags the elder boy, causing a soft smile to break across Tadashi's lips. His hand is wrapped tightly around Tadashi's wrist, sending pin pricks of electricity from his skin to his spine and back again. His heart is beating fast, he's breaking the rules and he's not even quite sure what's going to happen next as the boy pushes him into a dark and empty guest room, suddenly interested in playing with his tie, pulling Tadashi down so they're eye level._

...

The other guests have lost interest in them now, back to their mindless drawl of stocks and shares but Tadashi is completely focused, hyper aware with every step Hiro takes his skin tingles more. Dreams of teeth and fingertips and-

...

 _The back of his legs collide and he falls with a surprised gasp. The boy is on him in a moment, climbing over him, like a predator, and then straddling his thighs. Tadashi's mind isn't quite on the up take. He's not spontaneous like this, he doesn't take risks like this, but soon the boy is pulling his shirt over the top of his head, porcelain skin - glowing iridescent in the moonlight that washes over them from the window - hold him entranced. More and more skin, he can't look away, and suddenly eyes, deep and playful chocolate eyes are looking at him again, perhaps in triumph or just a permanent smugness that seems to exude from the boy as he whispers huskily, words vibrating through Tadashi like the beat of a train track._

 _"Show me what you're made of Hamada"_

 _A growl is Tadashi's only capable response._

...

He's back to earth with a crash. ' _Don't think about it, don't think about it, do not think about it'._

"So," Hiro starts, checking his phone in a swift movement, "I saw Baymax the other day. Good job by the way. For you, I mean. Personally, I don't have time for walking marshmallows but you have always been quite simple, haven't you eh Hamada? I almost sent some gold stars in the mail, you know, positive reinforcement and all."

Tadashi's eyes narrow in response, "Well I suppose we can't all be like you can we, Takachiho? I was impressed myself by your Microbots... Though I suppose they're hardly micro to you are they?" Hiro's eye twitches and in minor celebration Tadashi takes a swig of champagne, their gazes still locked and unmoving. Hiro never loses that smugness however and he's quick to reply, just as always.

"Oh Tadashi. You of all people know size doesn't matter - so long as you know how to use it." Tadashi chokes, practically heaving up a lung and as soon as he regains his breath, he's glaring at the boy. Hiro merely smirks.

"That's so weird" the boy sniggers, "you used to be so good at swallowing too, what happened?"

...

 _They begin meeting whenever they could. The closets of dinner parties, abandoned offices of their parents corporations, the school toilets, even each other's rooms late at night or in early mornings while the rest of the world dreams. And it was never enough. They began taking more and more risks, out in public, out from the city, where no one would know them. At first perhaps it_ _was_ _just to spite their parents, to feed their hormones and rebel against their worlds they were forced into. Hiro didn't care - not at first. It was a game, nothing serious, just a game._

 _Neither noticed when Tadashi first started pushing their relationship into something dangerously close to romantic. What was once hurried, a means to an end, became slow and, dare he say it, loving. Quickly, a month of sneaking around becomes years._

...

Tadashi whips his head around quickly to make sure no one else heard and shots the boy a warning look. Hiro raises his hands in mock defence at the repriman.

"Oh sorry, how silly of me," Hiro 'apologises', "That's right, not like you'd need that skill nowadays I suppose."

The boy pauses a moment, and then fixes Tadashi with a twisted sneer.

"How is Honey Lemon by the way?"

...

 _He remembers one day, when they were laying on one of the cities floating wind turbines just because they could, far, far away from what awaited them on the ground. Hiro turned to him slowly, lips moving in the secrets of whole lifetimes that Tadashi knows will never be heard again. His eyes were golden in the light of the setting sun and Tadashi's heart stops beating - just for a moment - but stops all the same, only to restart in tune with Hiro's._

...

Bitter. Hiro's tone, his eyes. Venomous, spitting out the words cloaked in careless conversation. Suddenly the ring on Tadashi's finger feels heavier. He swallows and closes his eyes with a sigh.

He'd wanted to avoid this, he hated conflict.

...

 _He'll never forget Hiro's expression on that day_

 _..._

"Hiro, I-" he begins wearily, but the boy interrupts him sharply.

"-Oh, is that Mr Krei over there? Please excuse me." Hiro pushes past him, but not before Tadashi catches the rage in his eyes,"Pleasure as always, Hamada." Hiro calls over his shoulder before disappearing into the crowd and not looking back.

...

 _He'll never forget the look on Hiro's face before he turned and walked away_

...

Tadashi slumps, covering his eyes in defeat.

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The evening is in full swing now, but Tadashi doesn't have the patience for it anymore. His headache's only getting worse, the heat of the room overwhelming with far too many people interrupting any semblance of peace he can scavenge. Once he's escaped one conversation, he's pulled screaming - metaphorically - into the next. It just doesn't stop. Having influence is as much of a burden as it is a privilege. Tadashi has learnt that _far_ too well.

Finally he breaks free from them, bursting out and onto the balcony for some form of solitude. Luck, it would seem, doesn't smile upon him. Leaning on the ledge is a boy, hair ruffled and a cigarette between his lips, blowing circles into the nights sky. Hiro _knows_ why Tadashi hates cigarettes. Fucking typical.

"You know those are bad for you right?" He begins, "Cancer, emphysema, fibrosis - take you pick, you'll have one of them in twenty years."

"Tell it to your nursebot nerd, I don't give a shit."

But Tadashi can see his hand shaking as he takes another drag. He knows Hiro well enough to recognise the timbre of his voice slipping deeper into dangerous territory. This isn't the same actor from an hour ago.

He sighs, "Hiro-"

"No. We're not doing this Tadashi, not now. Go away."

He shuts his mouth, shaking his head, moving to lean against the balconies stone rails. It's a lovely evening. The moon sits high in the sky with San Fransokyos colour distant yet vibrant on the horizon its backdrop. He can see all the stars out here, out in the cities outskirts, weaved into the night like diamonds glistening. He feels so small. He always... His eyes travel to the boy unwillingly beside him.

Hiro's on the edge of the balcony. He's always on the edge. He sees the stress in Hiro's body, a tight brow, tight lips, his cheeks a little more hollowed than they were that last time. It's amazing what a year can do. And while Hiro's baby face still doesn't allow him look as old as he should, the nineteen year old does seem to have matured slightly in figure and mind. Slightly more weather worn, but still as beautiful as he's always been, in fact more so perhaps. Neither notice Hiro's cigarette, falling from slim fingers, the bud growing brighter than ever, before promptly burning out, smothered by the oxygen that fuels it.

"Stop it" Hiro commands, his voice empty. Small. Tadashi frowns, perplexed but before he can ask Hiro answers, "That. Stop that. Stop looking at me."

Hiro opens his eyes finally looking into Tadashi's, a seriousness heavy in the amber of his irises. They're frozen now, time meaningless as they stare at what they lost a year ago. Even after all this time it still feels the same, the pin prick of electricity buzzing across his skin, a thousand synapses screaming in the same way they always did before.

And Tadashi imagines it: Leaning forward. He imagines their lips colliding, their hands grabbing at any skin they can scratch, Hiro's legs around his waist, his back against the wall as Tadashi demands more and more, teeth and nails, lips and hisses, like it was before, he wants what they had before. But they can't. He can't.

And Hiro's eyes dart between his knowingly before the boy sneers leaning forward and hissing and accusing, "It wasn't enough for you, was it? I was never enough for you."

And their lips connect.

Just like that a years worth of forgetting is shot to hell. His skin sings and his muscles completely relax - Hiro's still is, will always be, his sedative. His large hands cup Hiro's waist, holding him protectively, while the boy's sling around his neck, like clockwork, instinctive.

They know each other like the back of their hands. Tadashi knows where to rub circles into Hiros hip, how to run his hands up his back and suck at his lower lip. Hiro knows when to gasp and nibble, dexterous finger playing with the nape of his neck, familiar and warm, before digging harsh finger nails into the flesh of his shoulder. Tadashi remembers the nights, the simple ones, where this was all they would do before falling asleep in the other's arms, or one of them sneaking out into the moonlight before they could be found. He wonders how many times they've kissed, and realises it doesn't matter. It will never be enough.

They're both shaking as Hiro pulls soft apart, resting his forehead against Tadashi's and breathing over his lips.

"I was never enough for you..."

Tadashi shakes his head slowly at the lie, tears pricking his eyes and barely audible 'no's escaping in frustration before he slips up yet again and lets the truth escape:

"You were _everything_ to me Hiro."

Hiro laughs bitterly, fringe covering his eyes as he pushes away from the older boy, looking to the floor.

"Then why," Hiro asks suddenly cold, "Did you chose _her_ over me, huh? Why did you chose _them_ over me?" he demands as he gestures at the room full of fake people, pretence after pretence.

Tadashi can't meet his eyes, the silver ring, almost but not quite forgotten, burning on his finger, fusing to his skin like a branding iron. He can feel Hiro glaring at him, he can feel the anger permeating the air, but he still doesn't answer.

Hiro curses viciously, moving furiously across the space, his foot connecting with the stone wall of the grand building with every plosive. Tadashi reaches out to stop him, but almost as suddenly as the rampage began, it's over and instead the boy shoulders begin to shake, forehead pressed against the cold surface. His next sentence is so quite, Tadashi almost doesn't hear it over the smooth and jazz coming from the party, discordant and clashing with the laughter of the guests.

He's so quiet.

"I was in love with you and you just... you..."

Tadashi swallows and covers his eyes in shame, forcing himself to take a shuddering breath. But Hiro wasn't finished.

"God, I was so in love with you. And when you... you... I called your phone, over and over again. But you never answered. Sometimes, I called just so I could... just so I could hear your stupid voice mail, okay? Just so I could hear your stupid voice. I wanted to talk to you so bad. But you never... And then I had to see _that_ on the news. You didn't even have the decency to tell me to my face, did you? Tadashi Hamada and his new fiancé on every fucking TV station. Oh look how good they look together! Oh look how happy they are! What a lovely couple!"

He's back to glaring at him, moving back towards him, a ferocious step with every outraged line - an impossible war of attrition.

"Hiro-"

"No, you don't get anything. How dare you. How dare you do that to me and, and I still- I still- don't know why. Why? Was all of this a big joke to you? Oh lets break our way into the 'trouble makers' heart, take all he has and then just walk away to your picture fucking perfect life with your perfect fucking girlfriend!"

They're inches from each other again, Hiro almost matching him in height after a year apart.

"Hiro-"

"Tell me, were you fucking her while you were fucking me? Because a month is pretty fucking fast to get engaged, even for you. Were you sneaking to her house after using me? Did you kiss her with the same mouth that whispered into my ears, constantly, loving words that clearly meant fuck all to you!"

"Hiro, _please_ -"

"And you know the worst part?" Hiro sobs angrily, "I believed every fucking minute of it. I believed _everything_. You're an exceptional actor you know Tadashi, and even worst? I'm still in love with you! There! I said it! Even now I'm still-"

Suddenly their lips are locked again, pushing at each other recklessly and violent, pulling at each other's clothes and hair just to have something to hold onto, the cold night forgotten in the burning hot air that ensnares them, their mouths open and desperate. Hiro nibs at his jaw, shoving him against the wall, stronger than he was back then.

And Tadashi is helpless. He knows this is wrong, he knows how dangerous this is, he knows the consequences. Anyone could walk out and find them, his own mother could, but this is Hiro. And Hiro always wins. The boy is hissing at him, angry words pouring into his ears.

"Does she kiss you like this? Does she feel like this? Can she make you feel like this? Can she?"

Tadashi is nearly crying, frantically holding on, and shaking his head.

"Did you miss me Tadashi?" Hiro breathes into his ear, "Did you miss me like I missed you?"

And with that Tadashi has switched their positions, forcing Hiro's head to bang against the stone so hard he sees stars. He devours Hiro, like a starving man, like an addict tearing at his next fix, all he can taste, feel think say is the boys name, over and over again. They moan, slick lips and sharp teeth. His hand pushes up the boys shirt, leaving a burning trail of skin in his wake, urged on by Hiro's breathless pants and broken words as his strips Tadashi's suit with quivering hands.

This is a mistake. They both know it, but neither care enough to stop as Tadashi sinks to his knees, as if genuflecting for reconciliation, and begins tugging relentlessly at Hiro's belt buckle with shaky fingers. Hiro gasps as his trousers are pulled down and he's exposed to the cold air, but Tadashi is on him in a flash, kissing up thighs, biting at the soft skin he finds there.

Hiro can't breathe, digging his fingers into Tadashi's hair and tugging in urgency, he needs more, they both need more, but are too dizzy from trying to substitute oxygen with one another. Tadashi blows across Hiro's member, blood leaving both their brains to head south.

They're not thinking. They can't think. And with that Tadashi swallows him whole. Hiro thumps his head against the wall with a swear, Tadashi only moans in response, savouring what could be his final taster, and allowing the vibrations to drive Hiro crazy, biting his lips to prevent any sound escaping so hard it starts bleeding. He's so close, he can feel it as he squeezes his eyes shut. But this isn't what he wants. This isn't what was supposed to happen. Before he can completely lose it, he fists Tadashi's hair and pulls him off his knees with a sharp tug.

Tadashi trips to meet him, their lips sealed together again, as Hiro helps free Tadashi of his trousers and then wraps his legs around his waist, Tadashi's large and warm hands cradling his head and his back. It's still too rough as he's thrusted against the wall over and over again in a meaningless rhythm, gasping as their skin touches after so long. They aren't kissing anymore, merely breathing hot air into each other's mouths in desperate gulps but it's enough, it's enough and too soon it's over, Hiro crying out his name while Tadashi bites into the soft junction between the neck and shoulder deep enough to wound.

Neither move for a long second. They continue to cling onto each other, revelling in the others warmth, Tadashi's lips pressed to his neck while Hiro breathes his hair. He doesn't want to let go, but his strength is leaving him, knees turning to mush and stance unsteady. Slowly, he lowers Hiro to the ground. They're both shaking he realises. He pulls up his trousers and the helps Hiro with his, wincing as their cum starts to dry. Their suit jackets mostly cover it and as long as no one looks too closely they should get away with it he hopes. With skittish hands, Tadashi smooths Hiro's hair into something slightly more presentable and normal for the teen, wiping the blood from the boys lip doing up his top button to hide the angry mark Tadashi had left.

He lets them sink slowly to the floor and they sit in the silent aftermath. Facing one another with closed eyes, defeated in an attrition's war. Hiro presses his head against his knees, wrapping his arms around himself, appearing so much smaller than he had just moments ago.

It's Tadashi who eventually breaks the silence after looking at Hiro's mop of hair, looking up at the stars and back down again as if asking for strength.

He imagines what would happen if he told Hiro everything.

...

 _It's late. Really late, when Tadashi finally gets back into his home, silently clicking the door shut and creeping up the grand stair case in the darkness._

 _The grin wont come off his face, his mind replaying the evening. He's a buzz. His only coherent thought being:_ 'Hiro' _, over and over again. No, this grin is permanent, fixed the moment the eighteen year old flushed, pouting in Hiro cute way that drives him crazy. He can barely contain himself from breaking out into broad way songs - that, he supposes, might be just a little_ too _gay for his comfort._

 _Still struck with a dazzling smile, Tadashi reaches the left wing of the ornate building and the door to his own living quarters. He swings the door open, just enough so he can slip through, but not so much as to exacerbate the creaking hinge that screams at precisely 60 degrees. He's in. The door shuts behind him and he sighs in relief, reaching over an clicking the light switch on._

 _He freezes._

 _"Ah son. How good of you to join me."_

 _Sitting at his desk is his father, narrow glasses perched on the end of his nose as he turns a page of a book, licking his thumb to free the page. He's in his home clothes, a blood red dressing gown, wrapped at the waist by a gold chord with a proud 'H' sewn on to the left breast._

 _Tadashi stays by the door, "Oh father," He calls nervously, "I didn't realise you'd be up at this hour"_

 _The man snorts, catching Tadashi's eyes with steel ice-blue ones, "That makes two of us" he snaps his book shut and drops it onto the coffee table with a ringing thump, skidding next to a thin red folder. Tadashi flinches. Hesitantly, his feet move across his bedroom, feigning confidence by sticking his hands in his pockets and attempting to keep his shoulders curling in, into something vulnerable. He still stops a good two meters away._

 _"Hows... How's work, sir?"_

 _His father chuckles humourlessly again in response. Tadashi begins to sweat, somehow knowing he's the punch line._

 _"Negotiations with the Iglesias are running smoothly, but I must say that old man can be rather... stubborn. Did you know he has a daughter?"_

 _"No, sir. I didn't."_

 _"_ _A real beauty she is," His father continues, gesturing to the armchair opposing him a silent command to 'sit', "a few years older than you, but that's of no consequence..."_

 _Tadashi is suddenly frustrated rather than nervous. He knows where this is going, realising a sigh and shaking his head, as he moves, practically falling into the chair._

 _"See son, I want that company absorbed. But the old man wants to ensure there's always a space for his little_ Honey Lemon... _Parents always do want what's_ best _for their children after all" He states poignantly, "so Tadashi, if you were to-"_

 _"Father..." Tadashi interrupts softly, leaning forward, elbows on knees and hands firmly knitted together, "You know I'm not ready for that kind of a commitment, I'm only twenty, I just want to work on finishing university, that project I'm doing has so much potential I just-"_

 _The man raises his fingers to silence him, "Say no more son. I am... proud, that you are so focused on your studies. You know, many boys of your age would be out there being less... modest in their behaviour. But not you, Tadashi. You, my boy, seem to do the Hamada name proud..."_

 _Tadashi fights a blush, trying to abandon the obscene images of activities earlier that evening, Hiro really had been feisty, more so than usual. He relaxes. That was easier than usual, perhaps the old man is beginning to actually listen to what he has to say? In any case, he's glad, but his eyes drift the thin red folder, printed in bold caps lock: private and confidential. The room is still for a moment, the only sound the ticking of a clock, which suddenly chimes in three ringing screams._

 _Tadashi jumps._

 _"You know son," His father starts again, completely unphased, "That Takachiho family is an interesting one..."_

 _His blood runs cold, "O-oh?"_

 _The man hums and reclines back into the settee, his eyes still fixed on Tadashi emotionless, "Their branch came from Japan what, three, four years ago? Yet they've still managed to dominate much of the robotics in San Fransokyo. I admire that about the Japanese. That's why I married you mother, but I'm not worried. They don't have the same... how do we say it? International prestige as we do, son. But it's always better to keep an eye on go to school with their boy, don't you?"_

 _Tadashi can only nod, worried what would come out if he spoke, his father doesn't seem to notice or care._

 _"Strange child that one. Your mother had quite a lot to say about_ that _I can assure you. His reputation isn't what one would call ideal. What his name, Hira? Zero?"_

 _"It's Hiro."_

 _"Ah! So then you_ do _know him."_

 _"W-well," Tadashi stammers, "Were in the same classes! He got moved up a couple grades!"_

 _"Then you_ should _know why it's best not to associate with such scum."_

 _The room drops twenty clenches his hands into fists, and looking down at the floor as if trying to burn a hole in the crimson carpet his eyes find._

 _"Look at me." His father demands coldly, all pretence of friendliness sucked from the room, "That was not a plea_ son _that was a command. Look at me."_

 _Slowly, Tadashi's burning eyes meet the steel ice-blue of his fathers._

 _"Good. Now, would you like to explain to me_ son _why I received a frantic phone call this morning from our family PA?" his greying hand wraps around the red folder._

 _"-Why I had to go down to the San Fransokyo times,_ in person _, and pay a hefty sum of money to recover this document?"_

 _His voice is getting louder, deeper and more accusing with every rhetoric. He shakes_

 _the red folder, practically waggling it in his face._

 _"-To stop a paper going to print that could completely destroy this families reputat-"_

 _Tadashi swallows, "Father, I don't-"_

 _"Silence!"_

 _Tadashi's mouth shuts with a click, as the man rises from his seat, the cool and collected business man gone with a snap._

 _"I will not stand for such insolence! I will not stand for such_ disgusting! Such illicit behaviour!"

 _The red folder lands in Tadashi's lap, slapping his legs as his father towers over him. He doesn't want to open it, cold dread washing down his back, his heart beat erratic as his fathers warm breath washes over him._

 _"Open it."_

 _"Father I-"_

 _"I said_ ** _open it!_** _" Tadashi holds back a whimper and with quivering hands realises it's contents._

 _Photographs._

 _Page after page of photographs, all with something in common. It was him and Hiro. Some mundane, pictures of them together in town, or at school, looking at each other, looking away, laughing. But there was more. Some of their more private, their intimate moments. The day they went to the beach, sat side by side watching the sun set, or that time Hiro fell asleep on him under their favourite tree last spring under the fluttering cherry blossoms._

 _Their most private moments, disturbed - violated by a trigger happy journalist._

 _How long? How long had they been following them?_

 _"Father-" His voice is cracked, breaking, "These are clearly just taken at an angle that-"_

 _His heart stops. He can't explain this one. It must have been taken through Hiro's window, maybe from the perch of the great oak tree in his garden. They'd captured Hiro on top of him, creamy skin exposed while hands, his hands, dig into his hips perhaps to guide him or merely to have something to hold onto. What's worse is Tadashi's face, his unmistakably, twisted in bliss in the bottom right corner._

 _He drops the folder, as if burned. Sits incomplete shock. Still. Silent. Shaking._

 _"Don't. Lie. To me." His father hisses viciously, disgust dripping from his words, "To think I raised_ this _. To think I let_ my _son be corrupted by that little_ faggot _-"_

 _"_ _No!" Tadashi stands, the courage usually forgotten in the presence of his father, flooding back as he stands a head taller than him, "No!" he cries, "This isn't his fault, this wasn't his fault father! I love him! I'm in love with him and he's-"_

 _The slap is so hard, he falls back into his place with a whimper, more from the shock than the pain. His cheek throbs as his father leans down to his eye level, stare unmoving and dark._

 _"Let's make one thing sparkling clear shall we, Tadashi?" he practically spits into his face, voice low and menacing._

 _"I don't give a fuck what you want. You lost that privilege when you almost soiled the family name. What you're going to do now,_ son _, is terminate any and all contact with that_ disgusting Jap _before I do. Do I make myself clear?"_

 _Tadashi doesn't answer, starring defiantly at the far wall._

 _"I said," His father sneers, grabbing onto Tadashi face and forcing their eyes to meet,_

 _"Do I make myself clear!"_

 _Tadashi nods silently, eyes burning through the sockets of his fathers before spitting out a heated: "Yes sir. Crystal,_ sir."

 _The old man stands, leaving his son abandoned on the floor and a deadly threat hanging in the air. He makes his way to the grand mahogany doors, sure to step on the photographs as he goes, grey hand reaching towards the bronze handle and pausing there a moment, as his final demand assaults the air._

 _"You are marrying that girl, Tadashi Hamada. God as my witness, I'll make you_ right _again, so help me God."_

 _The light is turned off as the door is swung open and closed again, creaking at 60 degrees and the thump rings around the hollow building. Tadashi stays curled in the darkness listening as his father's footsteps echo down the hallway and into nothingness._

 _..._

Tadashi imagines telling Hiro why, but he knows it won't make things any easier.

Hiro would fight him, the boy would tell him to screw the world and leave it all behind. But when Tadashi looks at Hiro, when he thinks of everything the boy had to say during their relationship, he knows Hiro is meant to change the world, and this? This relationship would only prevent him reaching his full potential. Tadashi knows firsthand, how ruthless his father can be. He needs Hiro to never want to see him again. He needs Hiro to-

His chest hurts.

He gets to his feet, the epitome of nonchalance, rolling his shoulder and clicking his back with a sigh of relief. He forces his posture into one of arrogance.

"Ah, thanks Takachiho. I really needed that."

Hiro's head snaps up, his expression twisted in utter confusion, "w-what?" the boy's voice is so tiny, so small, Tadashi has look away to prevent himself cracking under the force of it.

"Well, Honey Lemon is a good lay and all, but she's always asking for something slow and gentle, you know, _women._ But you? You let me do whatever I want to you. "

A sob breaks from Hiro, "I don't understand. I don't understand. You just... used me? B-but you said... You said-"

Tadashi fakes a loud yawn and leans down to Hiro's eyes level, condescendingly, "Listen kid. I said a lot of things." He laughs.

- _His heart hurts so much-_

"Now, I'm not going to lie, kid. You were fun. Good fun. A real nice game on the sidelines while I went after what I _really_ want. You know the type. Tall. Long legs. _Female_. Which, as I'm sure you've noticed, isn't you Hiro."

Hot tears begin pouring down the boys face, which morphs into one of complete devastation - _His heart burns_ \- Hiro shakes his head in denial, his fists clenching and relaxing again and again nervously. Tadashi draws a fake gasp, covering his mouth with his hand a moment, before pulling it away to reveal an artificial smile of sympathy.

"Oh Hiro, you poor boy," He doesn't recognise his voice, these words don't belong to him, just the part he plays, "You didn't _actually_ think this was all real... did you?" he coos.

"Tadashi, what are you saying, I don't-"

"It's over Hiro. I said it was over then and it's still over now. I suppose I just got a little... carried away," Tadashi laughs cruelly, "but you can hardly blame me when you were oh so willing..."

When Tadashi looks back down at the boy, he's almost taken aback by the rage he's confronted with. Hiro's brown eyes burn into his skin, yet appear... cold. Dead

- _It hurts. It hurts. I can't do this_ -

Slowly, Hiro rises to his feet, glaring at Tadashi, but it feels more like he's looking through him. Then their eyes connect for a final time and Hiro takes a deep, shuddering breath, flaring his nostrils before he spits out their parting words.

" **I** _ **hate**_ **you.** "

And then the boy is gone, never to be seen again.

Tadashi slumps to the ground, hand pressing desperately over his chest, wishing he could sink his fingers through sinew, skin and bone and pull out the organ which seemed to be tearing itself apart inside him. His breathes wrack his body, almost hyperventilating as the scene plays over and over before his eyes

\- _It hurts. It hurts so bad_ -

No.

This is what needed to happen. This was the only way. This was the only way. The only-

Tadashi wishes he wasn't such a good fucking actor.

.

.

.

Honey Lemon truly is a pretty girl.

They've been living together for just over a year now, in a studio apartment in the heart of the city. Tadashi had thought he wouldn't be able to manage this, that the blonde would be insufferable and his life a total hell just to please his father. But he's...

Comfortable.

They have a routine that works. Separate rooms, beds and showers, but a shared lab space where she can blow up whatever chemicals she chooses (so long, Tadashi enforces, as the extractor fan is on) while he tinkers away at Baymax, adding those final touches before the prototype will begin mass trial and face the Hamada Incorporated production line.

They both speak the same range of languages: French, Japanese, Italian, Spanish and English - They all filter through their space interchangeably. They use it to talk about guests without their knowledge, and Honey's mother is only too pleased to hear her native tongue falling from her future son in laws lips. They often laugh at the same points during movies, and share ideas, jokes and stories across the dinner table. She's clever, funny and a little bit brilliant he supposes. He can almost forget, during the day. Sometimes he thinks he could be happy with her, but-

...

 _Deep brown eyes, mischievous and on fire, burning a hole through his skin._

 _"Show me what you're made of, Hamada."_

 _Tadashi can only growl in response._

...

When it gets late in the evening, she'll find him, hunched over his desk, frantically scribbling down ideas or pouring over concepts until the crack of dawn. She'll run a hand gently across the expanse of his back before leaning down, pressing soft lips to his ear and reading over his shoulder. Her slim fingers stay on his left , soft and delicate, as her right hand places a coffee cup down on his desk. It always tastes perfect, she knows how to blend flavours, she knows the perfect amount of milk he likes and the temperature seems to stay constant until his final sip.

It is perhaps their most intimate moment of the day, as she whispers in her sweet and tempting voice, "Coming to bed, my love?" The same invitation every night and they're both aware of its implication.

And they both know every night Tadashi will shake his head.

They both know every night will be spent, symbolically cold and alone under separate blankets.

...

Tadashi wonders what he will do when his parents start asking for grandchildren.

...

The day seems to come far too quickly.

He's twenty-two now as he stands looking to a full body mirror in the most expensive suit he's ever worn in his life, navy blue with a matching waist coat and delicate flower of the softest yellow at his breast. There's so much after shave on him he's surprised the bud doesn't wilt, surprised he doesn't pass out from the fumes. He'd wanted a black suit, preferring the darker colours these days, but his mother had quickly shot that down.

" _This is your wedding day, Tadashi_ ," She'd scolded, " _Not a funeral_."

She's stood next to him now, a proud smile on her face as she blows her nose noisily into a handkerchief, and then dabs her welling eyes. She still looks as beautiful as she did years ago, hair greying slightly at the edges, in an elegant manner, her skin still almost as smooth as his own. She's saying something, he watches her reflections lips moving, but he can't hear the sound. He hasn't heard anything for perhaps the past two hours, his head, his ears, filled with a ringing he can't explain.

The next thing he knows he's at the altar. His eyes scan his surroundings, the congregation start standing up, an organs wailing reverberates through his bones, like he's facing an army, charging towards him. A camera watches him carefully. A million flashes are going off, it blinds him. The large abbey seems to shrink, he can't breathe, there's no air, there's no space. Women in pink start flooding down the aisle, a small girl throwing petals, followed by the cooing of the female guests. He can hear them whispering.

"-Bless, he looks like he's going to faint-"

"- So nervous, lovely to see a man taking this seriously these days-"

"-Oh doesn't he look handsome-"

"-He's a lucky boy, gosh look how beautiful she is-"

And they're right.

She's breath taking, her flowing blonde hair, tied back into a high and intricate bun, her glasses gone and the make-up forcing her green eyes to be large and lovely. Her dress cascades down her, tinted the softest cream. Anyone else would be lucky. _Feel_ lucky.

 _'You are so lucky Hamada, look how lucky you are, look how beautiful she is_ '

The organ is playing, but all he can hear is her ringing footsteps, getting louder and louder, closer and closer, till the lightning and thunder strike at the same time.

...

 _The sun was setting as they sat on the wind turbines far above the city, just because they could. Hiro's never looked more beautiful, the orange light washing over him and catching his eyes at the perfect angle. An old baseball cap sits, stolen on Hiro's head, keeping his scruffy hair out of his face so Tadashi can trace, memorise every inch of his skin. His lips are moving. But Tadashi knows what he's saying even without the sound. It's the first time Hiro's said it. Three words that mean everything. Three destructive words that leave him floating in the air. He's so beautiful, he's so-_

 _..._

He can't do this.

His eyes lock with his father's cold ones. Age hasn't been kind to the man, a single year has withered him greatly, the decades of stress and abuse to his body left him crippled, a recent stroke finally forcing him into a wheel chair. He suddenly feels so much smaller to Tadashi than back then. His father knows what he's about to do. The old man's lips begin quivering desperately in warning.

Honey Lemon reaches him. Her brow is folded slightly and he has to wonder if she knows what he's about to do too. The priest begins droning to his left as he stares at her and she stares right back.

He could do it, he thinks, he could-

"I can't-" They both say at the same time, blinking in surprise before-

The church door swing open with an almighty crash. The congregation turn in unison, cries of shock echoing through the ancient building, hanging like the scent of holy water in the air. Their eyes find a short brunette with striking Asian features twisted into a look of determination

 _Could it be..._?

"I object!" The figure shouts, their booming voice carrying easily over the scandalised gasps of guests and endless clicking of cameras. But as the dust settled, and the figure came into the light of the grand stained glass window it was Honey who spoke out.

"GoGo!"

 _'No...'_

Honey turned to him, her big green eyes watering as she whispered, "I'm sorry. I can't do this."

And she's moving, taking off, cream dress flying behind her, like angel wings, carrying her to freedom. The two girls meet somewhere in the middle, their lips colliding like a freight train. And then they're out. Out of the doors, out of the building and Tadashi watches as they escape into the June sun light. The guests are in uproar, a camera crew runs out to follow them, but not before capturing his stricken expression and then chasing after a mint green car, which speeds away into the distance.

 _'No... It wasn't him... silly me...'_

Fred, his best man, catches him as he falls, a whole year of repressed emotion crashing down upon him in one go.

 _'Silly me. Of course it wasn't him...'_

 _._

.

.

 _"Is that the best you can, eh Hamada?"_

 _._

.

.

A month later Tadashi finds himself in a decorative ball room, constantly flashed by the vibrant colours of swinging ball gowns and the sympathetic smiles of guests he knows would have laughed behind their hands when the drama had unfolded. They don't really care. Not about him at least. No one does, ever did.

...

" _I_ ** _hate you_** _._ "

...

The colours all look awfully dull to him and the food, extravagant and rich, tastes like sandpaper. He tries chewing, but eventually gives up, spitting it discretely into a floral napkin. He's so sick of this. He wonders how much longer he can do this, play this game the way he'd always been trained to.

"Damn it..." he hisses under his breath, feeling his eyes burn at the shame of it all.

He just wants out, but with taking over his mother's position as she takes over his father's in an attempt to save his quickly deteriorating health, he's more trapped then ever been before. He wonders if this is his fathers final revenge.

He shoves his way roughly through the obnoxiously laughing crowd, ignoring their many grunts of protest and gasps at the mere thought of his obscene behaviour. He pushes his way out. Out of their eyes, out of their world, out on to the balcony for some kind of solitude.

For some reason, he's vaguely disappointed when he finds it empty.

With a sigh, he leans on the railing, watching the night unfold, brilliant stars crystallising the sky. He watches one fall, streaking across the deep blue and realises he doesn't have a wish, not a proper one. He wishes he could go back a year. No, two, three years, back to when he didn't wake up craving a certain teenage genius, back before things got complicated.

He shakes his head. Despite how he's feeling right now, he knows he'd never have the balls for that. His heart physically constricts, angina, at the thought of it. The memories, the good ones, of those years, were the only things that kept him sane these days. With a heavy sigh, he withdraws a dog eared photograph from inside his suit coat and unfolds it.

It's getting tender these days, but still he carries it around with him, almost every day, trying not to cringe at its cliché position over the left region of his chest. It's one of the few he salvaged from the red folder on that day, perhaps the most innocent one. His finger traces Hiro's paper lips slowly. The boy is immortalised in this moment, laughing so hard tears are pricking his brown eyes. He looks so _alive_ , real and genuine...

Honey had turned up at their residents just over a week after the fiasco, a sad and unsure smile resting on her face. Tadashi's state, he remembered, had left the girl crestfallen, muttering a constant string of apologises, hurting his ears after such a long period of silence. Eventually he'd managed to get her to listen, got her to sit down at the kitchen table long enough to make her a bad cup of tea (she doesn't have the heart to tell him though, and instead sips at it lightly in encouragement).

And he tells her everything, he feels the weight he's been carrying almost entirely dissolve, even if only for a while. He tells her how he and Hiro had met (skipping over the more... intimate moments), how they'd snuck around, what his father had done and how Hiro had called out after him when he'd told the boy it was over... She held his hand over the tables cold surface, nodded her head in reassurance and muttered encouragement to just keep going, keep letting it out. Finally he told her how he's thought GoGo, just for a moment, had been the boy. She cried for him. She doesn't have the heart to tell him GoGo's full name. She doesn't have the heart to reveal why she had looked so familiar.

With a sigh, he's about to fold up the photograph, when there comes a small cough from behind him. He freezes and then twists, facing the ghost that stands before him.

"H-hey Hamada." The boy swallows weakly, "Didn't know you were going to be here, huh..."

The picture falls from his limp fingers, fluttering to the floor as he stares, silent and unsure. He's had too many dreams of this moment for it to be real. But Hiro looks older now, he's truly an adult, probably twenty and filling out properly. His eyes, while they don't seem quite as large, quite as doe like as just as they have always been. Burning. Beautiful. Tadashi doesn't trust himself to speak, is hands shaking as he just... just takes in what was ripped from him all those years ago.

But Hiro seems to take it the wrong way. Tadashi watches as hurt, exasperation clouds the younger ones face.

"Forget it." The boy hisses, looking away shaking his head, "Forget it, never mind, GoGo must have been lying, she must have got it wrong. I just- I just..."

Hiro turns on the spot sharply, and begins marching away like he has so many times before.

 _No. Not again. Never again_.

Tadashi grabs on to his wrist, paralysis gone. It burns. The contact ripples through him like an electric shock and suddenly all the colours come flooding back into his vision, all the sounds and smells and tastes return in an instance, like an atom bomb exploding in his sensory system.

"Let me go." Hiro hisses, but Tadashi can hear the tears in his voice, a wounded animal lashing out.

"No." Tadashi says just as firmly, tighten his grip, "No, not again, never again"

He swings Hiro around to face him, watching hot tears roll down the boy's cheeks. He cups them, tenderly, and presses his forehead against Hiro's, smiling so wide his skin hurts.

"Oh God, Hiro" He whispers, "Oh Hiro, Hiro, Hiro" over and over and over again, happy tears spilling. Hiro's own hands rest on his, leaning into the touch, desperately.

"I'm so sorry Hiro" he whispers, again and again, placing kisses on his forehead, his cheeks, his eyes, stealing the tears from his skins and trying to heal all the damage, the complete devastation done.

"I don't hate you-" Hiro sobs out

"I know."

"I don't hate you, I swear I don't"

"I know Hiro, I know" Tadashi's arms wrap around the smaller boy, cradling him, feeling up his sides just to make sure this is real, that this is really real.

"I was just angry."

"It's okay Hiro, it's okay"

"Oh God I was so angry." And Hiro's next cry is so quiet. So small, it breaks Tadashi's heart.

"Please don't leave me"

Tadashi just wraps Hiro in his arms tighter and neither let go for a really long time.

.

.

.

 _The sun was setting as they sat together on a wind turbine, far, far away from the life that awaited them on the ground. Hiro had just stopped speaking, secrets of a lifetime, never before spilled from the boys soft lips finally finished. And oh God he looks so beautiful up here, like an angel, the sunlight spilling on him and capturing his eyes in such a way that Tadashi's heart stops beating - just for a moment- only to begin again in time with the other's._

 _"I love you" Tadashi gushes suddenly, quickly covering up his mouth in embarrassment at the words he never meant to say (no matter how true). At first Hiro's eyes just widen, his expression one of complete stun. And then a heart wrenching smile blooms from his lips._

 _And Hiro says the words back._

 _._

.

.

 _"_ ** _I_** ** _love you too, you idiot."_**

.

.

.


End file.
